Chapter 767: 767

Mahu regarded Ikenga for a long moment, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm but distant.

“Welcome home, brother.” There was no step forward. No embrace. No gesture of closeness.

Ikenga met her gaze and smiled anyway.

“You seem to have gotten more beautiful in my absence,” he said lightly, attempting warmth where silence threatened to settle.

Mahu returned the smile.

But it was thin. Polite. Distance clear in it.

Ikenga’s expression faltered, his smile fading as he truly saw her, how composed she stood, how much effort it took to remain so.

His voice turned sharp as he noticed something “You’re injured, no…” His gaze flicked from one face to the next, jaw tightening as realization settled in. “You all are injured. What happened?”

Jaus let out a low, humorless scoff, throwing Crepuscular a sideways glance, one filled with irritation and mild embarrassment. He’d clearly lost whatever wager they’d made.

“A lot has happened while you both were gone,” he said flatly, directing the words at Ikenga.

Before Jaus could continue, Ikenga’s attention shifted. His eyes lingered on Nana for only a heartbeat before his presence unfurled outward, rippling across the world itself. Though time had passed and much of the damage had been repaired, the scars remained, faint fractures in reality, lingering distortions only a being like him could sense.

His expression darkened.

“Inside or outside job?” Ikenga asked, his tone tense.

Crepuscular and the others stiffened, exchanging brief, uneasy looks. It took them a moment to fully grasp what he was asking, not about the injuries, but about the world.

“No, brother,” Crepuscular said at last, shaking his head. “Our world is still safe.” He paused, then added grimly, “This was an inside job. Planned. Carried out by the one called Murmur.”

Ikenga exhaled slowly, the sound heavy with restrained frustration.

He opened his mouth to press further, but Jaus cut in before he could speak.

“We’ll talk about all of this later,” he said firmly. “Right now, we still need to fully heal. We only stopped because we felt you both return.” His gaze flicked briefly to Keles before returning to Ikenga. “Besides, you both need time to readjust. A lot has changed in our world.”

Then, more quietly but no less pointed Jaus added, “And I’m sure some things need to be settled before our next meeting.”

Ikenga didn’t respond right away. He simply turned his gaze toward Mahu, understanding dawning between them without another word spoken.

Just as they had arrived, the Origin Gods began to withdraw, their towering presences folding back into the realms that birthed them. One by one, the air stilled as their divine signatures vanished.

Mahu was already turning away, ready to return to her own realm, when a hand caught her wrist.

She froze.

Slowly, she looked back and met Ikenga’s gaze.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Mahu’s eyes flicked past him to Keles, who stood at the edge of her own departing portal. Keles had noticed the interaction. She hesitated, studying them with a quiet, unreadable expression, before finally saying nothing at all. Her form dissolved into light, slipping back into her realm and leaving the two alone.

A silver portal bloomed open before Mahu, without a word, Ikenga stepped forward, still holding her, and together they passed through.

Mahu’s realm greeted him with familiar radiance, vast and profoundly changed. Towers of light rose where once there had been emptiness; entire systems moved in quiet harmony.

But Ikenga didn’t look at any of it.

His attention never left her.

“Speak to me, Mahu,” he said, his voice low, strained beneath restraint. “Acting like nothing…”

The words never finished.

Her hand moved before thought could stop it.

The slap cracked through the air, sharp and final. Ikenga’s head snapped to the side from the force, his jaw clenched as pain rippled through him. A line of gold split his lip, divine ichor spilling down his chin in a slow, gleaming trail.

For a heartbeat, there was only silence.

“Let go of me.”

Her voice was quiet but tightly coiled, restrained fury barely holding itself together.

Ikenga slowly turned his head back toward her.

That was when he saw her face.

Tears clung to Mahu’s lashes, spilling freely now, carving glowing paths down her cheeks. Her expression was a collision of emotions, anger, hurt, longing, and something far more fragile beneath it all. Her hands trembled, clenched into fists at her sides as if holding herself together required every ounce of her strength.

Ikenga’s grip loosened instinctively.

The wound on his lip mattered far less than the one he was finally forced to see.

He pulled her into a hug before she could stop him. For a heartbeat, Mahu stood rigid then she shattered.

Her hands fisted into his chest as a sob tore free, the sound breaking straight through her composure.

“Do you know how much I missed you?” she cried, her voice cracking under the weight of years held back. “All that time you were gone…”

She pressed her face against him, tears soaking into his robes.

“Every day you were on my mind,” she went on, words tumbling out unevenly. “You were a pillar I kept reaching for, one I was so eager to lean back on. I wanted to return to a time when I didn’t have to think around you, when I could just be.”

Her breath hitched.

“But somewhere inside me, I knew,” she whispered. “And I dreaded it. I knew your return would hurt me.”

Ikenga stiffened, but she didn’t stop.

“I knew you would hurt me,” Mahu said, her voice rising with anguish. “I knew and I still wanted you to come back. I still waited. And even with you here now, the pain is unbearable.” Her hands shook violently. “That should have been me. I should have gone with you.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes burning through tears.

“I should have been the one sharing those bonds with you. I should have been the one waiting eagerly at your side, waiting for our unborn child.” Her voice broke completely. “But I was denied all of it.”

Suddenly, she shoved him away.

Ikenga stumbled back a step, stunned.

“Do you think I’m gullible?” Mahu demanded, her grief twisting into fury. “Do you think everything could return to how it was with a few jokes and carefully chosen words from you?”

Her chest rose and fell sharply.

“Do you know how much I wanted to hurt that child?”

The words fell as Ikenga went rigid, his entire being tensing, divine power instinctively bracing as if for impact.

Mahu noticed. A bitter, broken smile flickered across her face.

“You saved that child’s life,” she said quietly. “You think I didn’t notice how tense you were? Had you dared stand between me and Keles, had you made yourself my obstacle it would not have ended as peacefully as it did today.”

Her voice trembled, but her conviction did not.

“It pleased me that you trusted me,” Mahu said. “That despite everything, you believed I was still mature enough, still strong enough to face this without becoming something I would hate.”

Her hand pressed briefly against her chest as though steadying herself.

“That trust… that faith in me,” she said softly, “that is what saved that child’s life.”

Silence stretched between them. Mahu wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, her posture straightening once more not whole, but standing.

“So do not mistake my restraint for forgiveness,” she said quietly. “And do not mistake my love for weakness.”

Ikenga didn’t move as Mahu stepped closer. The distance between them vanished when her hand fisted into his clothing, fingers curling with purpose as she pulled him down to her. Before he could speak, before he could brace himself, her lips met his.

For a fleeting moment, it felt achingly familiar.

Ikenga tasted the memory of her: warmth, divinity, everything he had lost and never stopped yearning for. His breath caught, his hands reaching out to her but then she pulled away.

“I want to hurt you,” Mahu said quietly, her voice steady despite the tears still clinging to her lashes. “The way you hurt me. And I will.”

Ikenga’s chest tightened.

“I will bear your child,” she continued, each word merciless. “I know how much regret you carry over Ikem. How that wound never truly healed.” Her gaze hardened. “Sadly for you, that regret will not end there.”

His eyes widened slightly.

“I will have your child without you in their life,” Mahu said. “I will do everything in my power to ensure they never know your connection to them. You will watch your own child grow into a stranger, unable to call you father, unable to heed your counsel, untouched by your presence.” Her voice trembled with pain sharpened into resolve. “Your words will mean nothing to them.”

She leaned in once more, pressing her lips to his again soft, lingering, cruel in its tenderness.

“That,” she whispered against him as she pulled back, “is how I will hurt you.”

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